


Picking Up The Pieces

by itsamagicalplace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I swear this started out as fluff, Injury, Past Philinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morphine helps, but it doesn't just numb her pain...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up The Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mandergee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/gifts).



> Oh my god I am atrocious at writing summaries.  
> [sunshine-and-pie I'm blaming you, angst is creeping into my fluffy fics now...]

A broken rib hurt like a bitch; Phil knew, he’d had plenty of them over the years. But having multiple broken ribs at the same time, a couple of second degree burns dotted around her shoulders and arms, plus severe bruising blossoming all across her body, had left Melinda in a lot of pain. So much so, she hadn’t even raised complaint when Jemma suggested taking something stronger than the paracetamol tablets she had hold of. Which Phil knew meant for sure she really was hurting a lot more than she would let on to the rest of the team, because Melinda May would not willingly take morphine unless she really needed to.

Skye had already been fussing around her when he managed to get her back to base, and Phil had watched as Melinda momentarily wiped her pain away, presenting them with a mask of bravery instead, telling them she was fine, just a bit bruised. 

He knew better.

An hour later and he stood in the corridor outside her room, waiting for Jemma to assure him May really would be alright. 

“She’s talking a bit,” the biochemist said with a tired smile. “But nothing bad,” she added quickly, seeing the flash of alarm on Coulson’s face. He knew the dangers of having an agent lose lucidity; too often secrets tended to spill, and in its later days SHIELD had implemented rules that only higher level agents could accompany someone who was delirious on medication. Just in case. But SHIELD had fallen, and Coulson trusted Jemma to keep anything May said quiet.

“She just made a few comments here and there…oh, and she misses you.” She added the last part in a rush, and Coulson looked at her. 

“I only just left.” 

“I know Sir, she just, she asked for you and I said you were getting changed and then she kind of pouted,” Jemma mimed what May’s expression had been. “And then said she missed you.”

He had a feeling May wasn’t just talking about tonight; he definitely missed her. He missed her so much it hurt. But whilst nostalgia was great, he had to accept that life had happened. Things had changed, and now they were here as two different people than those they used to be. But he just nodded at the scientist as he opened the door to May’s room. She had refused point blank to remain in the medical area; she was too damn stubborn sometimes, but he knew how she hated the feeling of weakness, and nothing made her feel weaker than lying in what would essentially be a hospital bed.

“Wake me if she needs more morphine?”

“I will. Thanks Jemma” he said quietly.

He watched as she nodded, before walking off down the dim corridor towards her own room, and he turned to face the woman lying in bed in front of him.

“Hey” May said, rolling her head across the pillow and shifting onto her side slightly to face him, wincing only a little as her bruises pressed against the mattress.

She smiled as he closed the door behind him quietly and approached. It was a soft, relaxed smile that Phil hadn’t seen in years, and he couldn’t help but return it. Sure, he’d seen her smirking quite a bit on the BUS, and recently he’d watched the corners of her mouth rise up when she was training Skye and the young girl did something well, but not this smile. This was her pre-Bahrain smile, the one he had missed so much it physically left an ache in his chest. It was the smile she’d worn almost every day they were together; the one he had witnessed each morning as they awoke, entangled in cool sheets, and he’d placed kisses into her hair whilst she hummed happily against him. 

It left a lump in his throat that she only wore it now when she was drugged. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, swallowing as he reached the side of her bed, and taking a seat in the small chair Skye or someone must have placed next to her, the frame creaking a little as he moved. 

“Free” she murmured happily, and his heart broke again. 

Phil knew what morphine often did to her; he'd seen her under the influence of it on multiple occasions. It sometimes made her talk, left her chattering on about everything and anything to anyone who would listen. That side of it he secretly quite enjoyed, especially as she wasn’t the most talkative person anyway.

But he also knew that it lowered her inhibitions, and sometimes that sensation left her feeling vulnerable, afraid of what she was going to say. It was in these moments especially that he knew he couldn't leave her side – so he never did. She was level 7, or had been, before everything around them had turned to hell, and so she had knowledge of things that other agents were not authorised to be recipient of. 

But the dopey smile she now had on her face told him he didn’t need to worry about her spilling state secrets tonight. 

“You changed” she said, pointing lazily at the tee-shirt he was now wearing, and touching the soft cotton with her fingertips. He’d had to change. Once Jemma convinced him that May really would be okay and that she wouldn’t leave her side until he returned, he’d rushed back to his room. He needed to get the clothes he’d been wearing off; the shirt was tinged with streaks of her blood from where he’d carried her out of the basement, and each time he glanced down at the now browning stains he felt a swell of nausea overwhelming him. 

“I did. I only left you for a moment.” 

He watched as she nodded at that, but then began to frown.

“Jemma stole my blood.”

Phil tried not to laugh at the grumpy expression she now wore. “Stole it?”

She nodded vehemently. “She stabbed me with a needle, and stole it.”

“Okay, I’ll speak to her later” Phil knew from experience it would be better if he just went along with what she was saying. He also knew Jemma had taken a sample of May’s blood to ensure she hadn’t been drugged whilst unconscious in the basement; fortunately, she hadn’t, and Simmons had no other concerns regarding dosing her up on high grade painkillers. 

“You really scared me today” he said softly, sighing as he leant forwards to rest his elbows on the mattress. It had started as a simple mission to investigate a potential Hydra loyalist. It had turned into the assignment from hell, and resulted in her being tied up in a basement and tortured for information about alien patterns that she refused to give.

He had to admire her loyalty, in fact, Phil admired the loyalty of their whole team, but that loyalty was putting all of them into more and more danger each day. They could do nothing but fight. 

“Sorry” she whispered, staring right into his eyes, and he momentarily wondered if she was actually aware of what was going on around her. 

She reached out, and gently traced a fingertip along his jawline.

"Melinda" he murmured, watching her carefully. If she wasn’t lucid now then it was more than likely that she wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, but he would never want her to regret her actions if she began to spill her heart. 

“Your eyes are blue” she said instead, still tracing the contours of his cheek. He reached up to take hold of her hand, stop her before it got too much, before the memories knocked him over. 

“Yeah, they are.”

She nodded slowly, seemingly happy with his answer, and lowered their hands until they rested on the mattress. 

“Like the sky” she whispered. “Eyes like the sky.”

She’d told him that once before, a long time ago, and again his stomach tied itself in knots at the ease in which her words flowed when she was unable to hold them all in. 

“Will you stay here?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes as she did so.

“Of course.”

He wouldn’t leave her. Phil knew he would stay any night if she asked, but especially tonight. 

As he watched, her eyelids fluttered more frequently, and within a few moments, she had drifted off. 

He stayed in the armchair all night, and when he awoke the next morning she was already conscious, watching him with soft brown eyes. Their fingers were still linked together, resting on the crisp white sheet wrapped around her bruised body.


End file.
